


Kindred Spirits

by sabaceanbabe



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Book 3: Mockingjay, F/M, Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-23
Updated: 2014-05-23
Packaged: 2018-01-26 05:05:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1675745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabaceanbabe/pseuds/sabaceanbabe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Greasy Sae loses the contents of her stewpot...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kindred Spirits

**Author's Note:**

  * For [deathmallow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathmallow/gifts).



Sae screamed when she went to pull the arrow from whatever the hell the critter was that Thom shot. Dinner wasn’t supposed to unfurl and run away when you tried to clean it for the stew pot. There wasn’t enough blood for the thing to have been all that bad off, evidenced by the trail of little paw prints that led from the kitchen out into the corridor and then petered off.

“Well don’t that beat all,” she said to the room at large, her heart pounding in her chest.

“What was it?” Delly asked, wiping her hands on her apron and staring after the spiny little beast.

“Looked a little like a porcupine,” Sae said, turning back to the game sack and gingerly opening it, hoping nothing else was still in it more alive than dead. “But I ain’t never seen no porcupine move that fast.” She pulled out another critter on a feathered stick, but this one, a proper rabbit, just flopped. Reaching for her cleaver, she whacked its head off, just to be sure.

*

Haymitch was heading to his quarters for a clean shirt when he heard the screams. Someone darted past him, quickly followed by something small, fast, and possibly furry that skittered around the corner on the man’s heels. Haymitch frowned, bemused, when the thing suddenly changed from a running beast or unknown origin to a ball of spiky-looking fur that bounced against a wall and then rolled on a new trajectory straight for him. He put out a foot and stopped it, staring at it when it stayed put. Hunkering down, he poked at it – carefully – as a boy in a kitchen uniform skidded around the corner.

“You caught it!” the boy exclaimed, looking at Haymitch with a touch of wonder in his dark eyes.

“Sure, if that’s what you want to call it.” He poked the grayish-brown ball again, which wasn’t nearly as prickly as it looked, although that still wasn’t exactly what he’d call soft. Rolling at back and forth for a couple of seconds, he thought he saw a quiver in that fur that wasn’t a direct result of him touching it. It was warmer than he would have thought, too. Frowning, he cautiously picked it up, ready to drop it if it showed any signs of being disagreeable and having teeth; it was only when he picked it up that he saw the spot of red on the floor.

“Can I have it, sir?” the boy asked tentatively. “It’s supposed to go in Citizen Sae’s stewpot tonight.”

Raising an eyebrow at that, Haymitch straightened with the little ball of fur – about eight inches in diameter – cradled in one arm. Looking the kid straight in the eye, he said, “You tell Gre—, erm, Citizen Sae she can find something else to put in her stewpot.” Without waiting for the boy to protest, he continued down the corridor to his quarters.

*

At least, that was the plan. Somehow, Haymitch bypassed his measly room and wound up in the medical section, specifically in Johanna Mason’s room. The only thing he could figure was that the little thing in his arms reminded him of her – prickly from far off but much softer up close, and wounded, though not badly enough to die from it.

“Hello there, sunshine,” he said when he walked into her room.

“Fuck off,” she replied from where she sat in the middle of her bed. She looked some better than she had when he’d visited her last, which was right after she washed out of training, still reeling from the shock of the test and the shock of what she saw as failure. Still didn’t look happy, though, not that he expected that anytime soon, not for her, and not for any of them.

Without another word, he walked further into the room and sat without invitation on her bed, gently placing the ball of fur in the space between them.

“What’s this?” She looked from the ball to him and back down again, but at least now there was a spark of interest in those brown eyes.

“Hell if I know,” he replied cheerfully.

Johanna stroked its fur with the tip of one finger. The thing didn’t respond and she didn’t touch it again.

“Hand me that water, will you?” Haymitch asked, gesturing toward the pitcher that was just out of his reach as he grabbed up the sponge on the bedside table. Apparently, bath time had come and gone, but no one had cleaned up yet.

Soaking up some water with the sponge, Haymitch wiped away the bit of blood – most of it dried now – on the thing’s fur. Johanna watched and kindly didn’t mention it when Haymitch began to hum as he worked; he didn’t know he was doing it until enough time had passed for it to be embarrassing.

“You’ve got some blood on your shirt,” Johanna pointed out and he looked down to see a darker smear of rust where he’d cradled the beast.

He shrugged. “It’ll come out.”

“Oh…” He glanced back up at Johanna at the soft sound and saw her staring at the blob of fur between them. Whatever it was, it had started to open up while their attention had been on Haymitch’s shirt, revealing kind of beady black eyes and a twitching nose that wasn’t much bigger in a pointy face. Johanna reached out a finger once more.

“Careful,” Haymitch cautioned, but she just laughed.

“This little guy won’t bite me.” Haymitch wasn’t so sure of that, but she proved him wrong when she stroked it between its furless little ears.

“Shit.”

“What?” Johanna asked, half smiling, the expression doing all sorts of things to his respiration and pulse.

“I guess it won’t at that, you two being kindred spirits and all.”


End file.
